“I know.”
“Hmm.” I watch Tristan as he talks to the floor manager, and he seems to have a stern face on. “Do you think something’s wrong?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Did you piss Mr. J off last night?”
I smirk.
“Maybe he’s upstairs throwing a tantrum.”
“I’m probably about to get fired.” I smile happily as I open my computer. Good, I hope he’s pissed.
Two hours later, I glance up and see two men I haven’t seen before. “Who are they?” I whisper.
Molly looks up, and her face falls. “Oh Lord have mercy . . . thank you, God.”
“Huh?” I frown.
“That’s Elliot and Christopher Miles. They’ve flown in from the UK. Must be a board meeting or something going on this week.”
My eyes widen. “Jameson’s brothers?”
She smiles dreamily as she watches them. “Uh-huh.” She looks over to Aaron, who is also openly staring. “I call Elliot.”
“Good, because I call Christopher,” he whispers right back.
“Can you please set us up on a brother date?” she whispers.
“Yes, and we need to swing,” Aaron replies. “Because I want all four. I can’t choose.”
“Can you imagine?” Molly murmurs. “Makes me blush just thinking of it.” She fans her face with her manila folder as her eyes stay glued to the brothers. “Imagine all of them in bed together . . . taking turns with your body.”
I roll my eyes in disgust. “The Miles brothers are overrated, if you ask me.”
They’re not, though. I’m lying through my teeth. All with dark hair, tall, and built . . . square jaws in their designer playboy suits. Everything about the four of them screams power and gorgeousness. Assholes.
Jameson hasn’t been to see me today. I haven’t heard from him, and if the truth be known, he’s probably upstairs making out on his office couch with Chloe as we speak.
Ugh. I’m off all men. How could I have been so stupid?
4:30 p.m.
“Oh my God, did you see the story in the Gazette?” Molly says.
“No, what?”
“The Red Ribbon Killer. I don’t even feel safe on the subway tonight.”
My eyes flick to her. “What?”
“Yeah, it’s one of their lead stories today. I was reading it online just now.”
“Are you kidding me?” I click onto their website and search for the story, and sure enough, the story comes up, almost word for word . . . my words.
I put my hand over my mouth in horror as I read it.
Oh my God. That’s why they’re all here today; they’re in damage control.
I stare at the story on my computer. It’s there in black and white, but I can’t actually believe it. I look at all the people in the office acting calm and professional. Who is it?